MYSTERIES INVESTIGATED, REPORTS ON THE WEIRD AND THE STRANGE,THE SAVAGE AND INANE; STAYING IN THE ZONE,TENNIS, POLITICS, LAW; THE SCHOOL FOR MYSTICS - TOWARDS THE GREAT LIBERATION (FOUNDATION EXPERIENCE), OVERCOMING REPRESSIONS OF ALL KINDS - STORIES FROM THE FEMALE ORGASM CLINIC: REALIZATION, MINDSHOCKS, CROP AND CANE CURES FOR GUILT AND SHAME; HUMOUR WHENEVER POSSIBLE...TO PENETRATE THE THIN MEMBRANE INTO THE EXISTENCE OF A DEEPER AND MORE AMAZING REALITY AND REPORT BACK TO YOU.

I went to a really terrific party the other night.

It was the wake of a woman I loved ( and I still do

love her – I didn’t know it ’til Yesterday.)

No one told me she was even sick. But she designed her own wake, all by herself in the hospital.

This is the down side

of being a hermit…

You don’t hear the news about anything

Or any one. (The “anyone” bit is bad, the hearing news of anyone.)

Anyway, I went to the party. And Kathy had laid a big free bar on for all her family and friends.

I hadn’t seen a woman in months. So after a few double shots of vodka & a little pretend mix, I met this fine looking woman in the kitchen.

I’m standing beside her with my hand on her ass.

It was a gorgeous ass and I couldn’t let it go.

I was staring into her eyes and she was staring right back into mine.

I said, staring into her eyes all the while, and not letting go of anything: ” You’ll have to excuse me,

I’m a horrible lecher.”

She took a step towards me. I could feel her

belly against mine, staring into my eyes with considerable heat.

She said: “No… You’re a pretty terrific lecher.”

***********

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OH LORD JESUS, AND ESPECIALLY KATHY, TOO, THANK YOU FOR THE HOPE,

AND JOY AND LOVE YOU GIVE TO ME RIGHT HERE AND NOW. WHAT A BLESSING YOU ARE NOW… AND HAVE ALWAYS BEEN TO ME.

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“Oh, you Saints and Bodhisattvas! I hail thee! Aid me now, please, I just can’t finish this passage without your help. You know this to be true.”

“Oh, Holy Father, you are the Lord of Hosts, God of Israel and Albion – You who breathe joy into my spirit and my soul… you who are at the heart of me –

Lord of the Meeting RIVERS, You of the red earth of the Indus plains, You of the Caribbean… of the Mother of my Love, You who are Grace to all things earthly, and all sphere’s beyond the earth. You who give me all my strength; you know I have no strength without you.

YOU WHO BRING FERTILITY TO ALL THE LANDS,

you who rouse me from my sleep and show me the beauty of women once again.

You who lift me from my solitude, you who carry me to the sweet and bubbling waters that flow straight into me from the mouth of your transcendent Son.

You who show me mercy, you who led me to your

miraculous,transcendental, eternal Son, You who have shown His Mind to me…

You who teach me the joyous meaning of ‘“FOREVER”… You who have set me free…You who lead me to sit by the still waters… You who lead into the meaning and core of Your TrinitY…You who teach me the Truth, You who return my home to me — You who make me glad and show me the Mystical value of your Sun rising and falling around me —You who love me more than I ever could love myself, you who cleared the Path for me — so that now I clear the Path for others,

especially so I may make straight the way for our Youth, those of us who will build a renewed Nation, those who will Quest and find you, because of the sign posts we set out and which you sanitize and bless today – signs for those courageous pilgrims and heroes who will sail the seas of Your terror, the path way to the site of your foundation experience, Realization which transcends the centuries… You who are my soul, you who bathe me in the sunlight of your Eternal Spirit, You in whom Grace resides,

the only place where Grace can ever be, you who are the Mind of God. You who teach your Mind to me, so that others may learn through your power, the strength that you bequeath to me… you who are my God, the only One to me… You who are The One Who Is Creating Us, I praise Thee. I praise Thee, O holy Lord, I praise Thee forever, now and hereafter, I praise Thee to the heights, that all the world might be blessed so as to praise Thee. I have no strength of my own – only the strength through which you have carried me.

I thank you, Lord of Hosts, for you are Father to me. You are my Soul.

Whatever gifts I have, you have given me.I am nothing without your strength . All I am you have given me. In my hand you place the infinite meanings; in my hand you have displayed eternity.

(C) 2017 by the Author through the hand of

W. G. Milne

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DO NOT FORGET THE MASTERS WHO HAVE GONE

Do not forget the masters who have passed,The saints and Buddhas who have carried you,The golden angels who looked over you,The loves and mothers who will bury you.Do not forget the source of all your sight,The God who lifts you past the river’s shore;Remember now your first erotic nightsWhen a sweet angel kissed and gave you more;Do not forget the masters who have gone,Who gave and drew illumined light for us;Who knew and gave to you their farewell songs,Who speak just past the grave their love for us.(C)2017 by W.G. Milne

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WRITING IS A MUSCLE, it must be exercised.Chose your themes, your shticks – choose thefives things that obsesses you,things that bug you…

stories you keep returning to, and write them down.Self-consciousness is your enemy when writing.There is a parallel between writing and singing.You want to eventually sound the way you think you sound

on tape…and when you get there, you’re a singer…

when you really do sound that way on tape.*In the same way, you want to write the way you talk when you’re telling a story at the local bar, talking to your friends, having fun, gettin’ a few laughs, whispering in someone’s ear and

getting personal… dirtylaughs … GET RID OF YOUR INTERNAL CENSOR..*

Get back to your street talk.* Anything that fucks with your spontaneityhas got to go. For example, if I have an appointment a 3 P.M.,

I can’t write at 10:00 A.M . That’s why I’m a hermit

with no social engagements whatsoever.Cheers! (Copyright everything) (C)2017 by W.G. Milne

gotta love him — his vast humour….. not at all competitive…

His gig is MUSIC accessing JOY and laughter.

TERRENCE McKENNA

Also, TERRENCE MCKENNA…..

a must-absorb fella — lovely language!!!

I WILL SEND….his language to you… he advocates excessive use of hallucinogens…..

in an extremely clever way………

Check his playfulness…

I like him. Beautiful use of language…

if he isn’t too radical, you could give him

to your students to read ( with a

dictionary).

Hell, I need one, too, with Terrence.

(Though is is probably a terrible idea!)

He was asked why he hadn’t been arrested yet, advocating the use of the sacred mushroom.

He said: “I think it’s because I use

four syllable words.

*****

1,000 PAGES OF DELICIOUS EROTICA

WOOF! WOOF! WOOF!

Henry Miller ended one of his books with these three words. I think it was SEXUS, but it may have been NEXUS OR PLEXUS…

Normally I keep up with such things… but perhaps because I have written so much excellent erotica, myself, I am allowed to forget about the work of other fine writers.

I have 1,000 pages to edit, or at least re-read.

And I simply can’t do it without intense inner discipline, which means keeping my hands well off certain body parts for days at a time.

It’s a monstrous challenge, but maybe I can avoid rising to the occasion.

**********

So Mom’s a little pissed-off that I sent Orion and you: “Balls Naked in a Chair”…but, hey, it’s a funny story. Thousands of people like it & I bet a third of them are younger people… You two are smart enough to get it. I’m not worried.

It’ll be in the next book I publish — which will be soon.

I told you, I think, this lady from Sweden wrote me a letter saying she loves my writing…

Then she asks: “But please, would you explain it to me… are you writing comedy or horror?”

the mad mood swings and shifts of the female mind. It’s hard to relax when a a naked woman is in the room – especially if she’s armed.

Here’s a little ditty that might help explain my

sometimes psychotic fear of the “weaker sex”.

FOR EXAMPLE:

My first wife tried to use a club on me,My second wife she tried a dagger;My third wife is working with attrition:I think I’d better bag her;I’ll keep her in the basement,Make her work real hard,I’ll let her see the sunlight,When she’s done her chores.

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FOR NO SEASON AT ALL, HERE’S

A small bit of a long narrative poem

RE: Mainstreet

_______________

On the curb, he considers his options,Which way to go into the day?Following the courses of the city tides,It is almost evening.

Neon lights are the moonOf these streets,knowing no season,The city will not change its face;It will continue in its grind and pace,Consuming us.

He admits it.He follows Lady through the trafficways:

“If not for her many faces I wouldbe wise to her.But she loses me alwaysI see her disappearing in her yellow dressAt Bay and Dundas. She smiles and waves at me.She is the Goddess from eternal seas;In the hips of every lady of the street,I see Her breathe. I needHer pulse and breath. I need her ,Though she gives so little to me;I pursue her like’s she’s the holy

BALLS NAKED IN A CHAIR, INSECT LOVE………….AGONY FLOWERS………………..NEW AGE EDITING

I crawl up out of what the Rat Poet calls“the foxhole.” I`m not goin to sweat it. I thinkmy pants lost their crease when I left Toronto.And I`ve gone about ten thousand miles since then,if you count bush plane, cattle-car and canoe.And there are moments of beauty… some of thatlittle prick`s lines are showing promise…But anything we have worked on in the past twoweeks has disappeared. Instead I find this:

Editor: It`s brain-numbingly bad. Before there wasa lot of shit, but at least we were working on“literature”… One thing for sure about this: its not literature…. It`s doggeril for sure. Like shit from adog… I was about to make a note in the verse andask, “IS THIS THE PLACE FOR A COLON?”But it was! It was most definitely the place for a colon…with that dogshit dogeril! (sp?) I`ve heard the rhythm before…. I`m trying to identify the source…

Fuck it… I need a coffee. And I betterpour a little shine into it… “The Mad Poet of Rat River.”I know how he got that name — if I stay heremuch longer, I`m going to be nuts myself. I wonderhow many braincells I lose every time I take a drink ofthis stuff. Look, it`s effervescing as I pour it…And I`m damned if i CAN SPELL effervescing!Ten years at the University and I can`t spell! That fucking mayor, or janitor, or whateverhe was… He looks like I feel… He looks like a madidiot…. A moron and on the low end of the intelligencescale for morons. I`m starting to understand those screens tho.I`ve been bitten 30 times since I sat down toread whatever horse`s ass dogeril this is. And I`m sitting inside the house!

VERSE “Suffering from no vitamins, no vegetables too –spend too long in the toilet seeing What I have consumed ; (OUCH! NO! HELP ME!)I`ve never seen an appleI`m malnourished at the rootAnd I don`t go out the front door anymore. (WHEW! NO MORE!) VERSE“I avoid the whole world; The world is strange to me:The rug is a jungle that the cops can`t even see! (NO!)And the ceiling keeps on wavingLike breakers in the sea;And we can see ArcturusBut there isn`t any “we” (!!!!!!!) And I don`t go out the front doorAnymore.”

I sit in perfect balanceGetting lighter all the time;Swell up like a blowfishFloat past maidens on the Rhine.And I know I`m getting somewhereBecause I`m going blind;And I don`t go out the front doorAnymore

Angels in the kitchen want moneyFrom me, too;And Frankie blows the tubaTo the cat between his shoes.And Artie`s watching Daisy`s ass,She lifts the washing on the lineThe mice jump to the tuba sounds.Go running cross the boards;And I don`t go out the front doorAnymore.

The smoke keeps pouring outThe foxhole and the door;I don`t have no fire alarmThere`re no firemen anymore;And the giant riverFlows as sweet and smooth as silk As silent church bellsRing inside my mind;

I`d go to the weddingBut there`s no women here to wedI saw my blankets movingThere`s a weasel in my bed;I let the insects bite meIt`s the only sex I get …I don`t go out myFront doorAnymore.

Oh God! Lord. HELP ME! And I really mean itthis time: I LET THE INSECTS BITE ME IT`S THE ONLY SEX I GET!

Help me! What the FUCK have I gotten myself into!

I`m 3000 miles from anywhereAnd I haven`t seen a ship. The planes won`t even land here we`re not a radar blip.And the wolverines are laughingAnd Matilda`s laughing, tooIf I don`t find some conveyanceI`l drink all this overproof And next I`ll put my heard right Through this board… NOW I`M DOING IT………! I`M GOING TO SHOOT MYSELF! Where`s the fucking gun? For that matter,where`s the stupid fucking poet… He`s not here.He`s not in the foxhole! Has he gone to town without me? Town? Ha! Ha” Oh yeah, I forgot. There IS NO TOWN!

Editor666…. looks out the scruffypane of glasses that passes for a windowlooking out over the scruffy yard…. It`s quite quaintactually… YEAH, RIGHT! There are some old woodenkitchen chairs standing at all angles in the yard….Is that a man sitting in that chair? There he is! He`s got a toque on and his boots… HOLY SHIT! His pants are down!And… oh fuck! He`s not moving! The editor runs outside (me, I run outside) I find themad poet is unconscious. He`s passed out with his pantsdown. His groin is crawling with flies… Everything looksunnaturally red and swollen… I guess so! If you can`t leave your horse outside for an hour – you sure as hell shouldn`t be sitting outside bare-assed! You gotta know that`s a bad idea. And MadPo of Rat River has been living here for years! There are about ten mosquitoes on the guy`s dick! At least five actively sucking blood from the head. Now that`s a fetish! INSECT LOVE! I run inside and grab a towel and start swatting the flies away…. His balls are protruding in an unnaturalway… They`re teed up, literally, like a golf ball on a T. Howthe hell did that happen? I`m whacking at him with a towel. Even this doesn`t wake him up. I didn`t sign on for this! He`s got a rope looped around his balls aboutten times. No wonder they`re sticking out. Ipick him up and throw him over my shoulder. I kick openthe double-screened door. I walk past the wood stovecarrying the guy. He`s not light. He`s got bigshoulders… probably from all the paddling he doeseach time he tries to escape this place. I toss him on his bed, which looks like a bigstack of clothes and pillows and furs. I make surehe`s not face down so he can breathe. I make sure there`s no large insects crawling onhim. I check for 100 pound weasels. Anything couldbe in that bed. I give the furs a kick. And that`sas good a friend as I intend to be. He can take the ropes off his testicleshimself! I go past the wood stove to the food table.I make sure the sceen doors are latched tight.I pour myself a long tall drink -moonshine and waterand berries squeezed in. (I almost said. “buries”!) Another few hours out there and there wouldn`thave been much left of him. And I`m just talkingabout the insects. If a wolverine had ever shown up…goodbyeMartha! That would have been a real weasel picnicright there! The big weasels have a certain fondnessfor testicles. That`s why the bears run away fromthem! They go right for the balls, and they don`tmiss often. They`re low to the ground andthey run hunched over and they have those long pointy noses and, I suspect, really vicious sharp teeth. A big weasel will chase a 2000 pound bear right away from a carcass. And the bear`ll right like mad forthe hills, the wolverine running right afterhim for about fifty feet, trying to nab his danglersfrom behind. You don`t believe me? Ask the experts.Who are the experts? I`m half an expert… I`veonly been here a month, but I`ve seen thisalready. I guess if you want a real expert you`dhave to ask that mad fool idiot janitor-mayorof Wait-A-Bit And that`s about as much about weaselsas I want to know. You probably feelthe same way, too. I take a drink. It`s too weak… too much water.I set it aside. I`m sure I can find a use for it. I grab a second tin cup, fill it about a thirdfull of the pure stuff…watch it effervesce (sp?)Take a straight shot…. Jesus! I`m seeing stars!I feel it burning like turpentine all the way doen intomy stomache. A shot glass of this stuff will burn on fire for half an hour. O.K. No straight shots… My ears are burning and my eyes are burning, but I`m feeling better. What the hell am I doing here? People pay me toedit their work. At least they did in New York City,Toronto and London. And I get talked into “a two month paid vacation” (He offered me cash – five grand down, fiveat the end of my contract.. and god knows I neededa vacation!). Talked into this…by that mentally-challenged moron janitor-mayor80 miles to the West on the Mackenzie… the big river!Ha! I`m not even on the Big River.. I`m on the smallriver… Rat River… swatting the flies off the genitalsof Ratty here…. That`s not exactly editing now, is it?Although there are certain parallels… With the shit that this guy`s writing now! Swattingthe flies off something is kind of a cute metaphor.

Better look at another verse. In a minute.

This booze is pretty good… when you get pastthe initial burn and the Varsol taste. I have another slug… Now I`m laughing aboutnothing in particular… Better watch it. Pretty soonI`ll be out there trying to fuck the flies myself…Didn`t someone`s uncle die that way recently? Yeah, I know I didn`t make that one up myself.And I sure as fuck hope I didn`t dream it! He was related to the mayor with the beekeeper`shat…which he never takes off. His uncle… Running offinto the woods with a hard-on – wearing nothingbut a Sony Walkman listening to “I believe in miracles!….Where you been, you sexy thing?” And he was never seen again. All theyfound was his Walkman… That`s how they knowwhich song… Maybe this sex with the insects thing is catching.And if it`s catching, maybe I can get workman`scompensation…

Ho! Ho! That`s “one toke over the line” thinking. It`s important to stop yourself when you start thinking in a truly abberant fashion. INSECT SEX, indeed! That`s why they call me Editor 666. I spot stuff like this. That`s why they pay me the bigbucks… I spot aberrant thinking, Damn right!And I`m, seeing plenty of it around here! I`m ruthless, that`s what they say. They`re rightI`m going to ruthlessly pour a drink I pour a half cup of straight white lightning. … I pour some ketchup into the overproof and mix it… just to cut theedge a little. Don`t want to lose that `burn` completely. Add a few ounces of water – not nearly as much as before… ((( Aw, fuck! It`s been about an hour! I can`t leavehim in there much longer. That rope around his ballockslooked like bungie cord! And his testicles were an unhealthy coulour of purple even back then.)) I walk back past the wood stove, stagger a fewsteps to the right. I have that first drink in my hand. It`sabout one quarter alcohol. A strong drink, a brisk drink. Nothing too heavy… you can`t quite light it on fire, butyou almost can. His testicles are deep purple now. I throw my drinklright on his balls. What a surprise. Not a sound. At least this should disinfect the situation. I`m doinghim a favour, I go back into the kitchen I hit the empty tin cup with a pencil. it makesa pleasing sound. I fetch three more tin cups and poura different amount of moonshine in each one. I hit all ofthe cups, playing different percussive notes and chantingplayfully along

I hear gasping sounds from the back of theroom… Like a large animal stumbling aroundin the woodshed having discovered something horrificin the corner. The gasps turn to low surprised gruntsand fast howls of astonishment. Then the bellowingbegins. The mad poet of Rat River is understandingthe dark side of Insect Love. People are in pain all the time. But rarely in a person`slife does he experience the full flowering of agony.The Mad Poet is experiencing that rare moment nowand I have to think he`l be a better poet for knowingthis profound truth buried deep in the nature ofReality. Life is pain, otherwise we`d all fall asleep. He will be fully awake to the twenty-first centuryand he will understand the meaning of New Age Editing. In about forty minutes his screaming will stop and I`m sure he`ll feel the whole experience has been worthwhile.

And what it means to be rescued by Editor 666

It`s a howl that would bring cops cars from threeprecincts, if we were in the cities. But we`re not in thecities.Howling and screaming and, in fact, torture of all kinds are perfectly legal up here in the Territories. This is like the Old West. No, this is better than theOld West. In the Old West, you howl and scream like this,someone would likely hear you and run to your aid. Up here, you can scream like this all day and howllike an agonized wild dog under a fat full moon – no one will do a thing. No one will even notice. I`d help but, as you know, I`ve already helped him.I`ve done all I feel I can in good conscience do. I imagine when he gets that bungie cord untied, and blood starts rushing back to the situation and the nerve endings in his scrotum truly awaken, he`ll know what it means to be fullyalive and sentient in the twenty-first century. He`ll also know what New Age Editing means.

WE’VE ALL BEEN QUITE CONTENT TO DEMEAN OVERNMENT

‘CONSPIRE TO PRODUCE AN UNAWARE AND COMPLIANT CITIZENRY

************

ARCHAIC SYMBOLS UNCOVERED IN PSYCHOLOGY,IMAGES FROM THE COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS …AUTONOMOUS, HIDDEN ARCHETYPAL IMPERATIVEWHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT IN ACTIONThe flood is one such archetypewhich we are aware of…out of ourcollective pasts. We are aware of the floodthrough creation myths, so the image restsin our shared psyche as a past remnant.The flood archetype does not contain animperative because it is past.The mother, the child, tricksterthe wise old man, are other sucharchetypes, fundamental images.The flood is one such symbol from the past,past image from a creation myth, commonly sharedby most cultures.But…. the apocalypse archetype….battle of Armageddon…..UNCONSCIOUS IMAGE,AUTONOMOUS HIDDEN PATTERN..

AUTONOMOUS, HIDDENARCHETYPAL IMPERATIVE WHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT IN ACTIONThis is an unconscious image we all share, especiallywe in the Christian world… AN IMAGE OF THE END OF THE WORLD, WHICH INCLUDES THE BATTLE OF ARMAGEDDON…. an unconscious ARCHETYPEAN AUTONOMOUS IMPERATIVEWHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT IN ACTIONI was sitting in a quad at the University. It wasfive A.M. I had taken to walking around and seeingthe sites of the old buildings during the night.I didn’t sleep so well anymore, so I wantedto settle certain things in my own mind. I had gottento the bottom of a number of issues, mysteries that could be solved, and discussed them and solved them in various articles and essays.But there are other mysteries… And now I was getting to the point that if I didn’t understand something, well,I had come to know that some mysteries remainmysteries.There was no point in digging moredeeply at certain aspects of reality, becausethere are existences in this world thatwill never give up their secrets.I have been looking at the mysteryof Archetypes. Symbols and archetype.Once again I was confronted withsomething that could not be expressedrationally. Rational explanationswill never work when you are dealingwith symbols. Symbols are used toexpress matters that are too deep for reason,matters that are true at the core of humanity,patterns that exist beyond birth-and-death,universal archaic patterns and images thatderive from the collective unconscious…(The flood pattern is one such archetypethat, I suppose, we can say has been actualizedbecause it has been related repeatedly as part of acreation myth….)

autonomous and hidden forms… universal archaicpatterns, images that derive from the collectiveunconscious

I was having fun writing this article, cracking some jokes…. tho I knew I didn’t have it quite right.So I looked at some old notes and saw thisnext passage: *********************************ARCHETYPAL IMPERATIVESWHICH SEEK FULFILLMENT IN ACTION original patterns = arche -type psychic equivalent of instinct (actions done unconsciously) FROM Collective Unconsciousness AUTONOMOUS AND HIDDEN FORMSunconscious imperatives that exist from beyond the grave.Archetypes are unconscious imperativesthat seek fulfilment in action… For example marriage,the mother, the flood… AND THE APOCALYPSEIMAGES THAT EXIST IN THE UNCONSCIOUSAUTONOMOUS, HIDDENUNCONSCIOUS IMPERATIVES WHICH SEEKFULFILMENT IN ACTION…..APOCALYPSE BATTLE OF ARMAGEDDONarmy from the northarmy from the southarmy in Israel and what was concerning me that nightwas that “the apocalypse” might be one such unconsciousarchetype… which was seeking fulfilment in action….(doesn’t it seem to you that we are unconsciouslyfulfilling the conditions of the world’s endas expressed by revelations…. leading towards thebattle of Armageddon….. does in not seemthat we are fulfilling the conditionsof this unconscious archetype of warOnce again the fool archetype cameto mind, the Fool as expressed in theMajor Arcana of the Tarot… Wait a minute,the Fool is expressed as happily steppingforward off a cliff!

***********************************************I was in a good mood and I waswriting a lighthearted article as follows:Archetypes, how to elucidate that whichcannot be explained?For example, think of Circe. She’sthe goddess who turned Odysseus’s meninto pigs.I’ve known women who can do that, too!But to be fair – a lot of these men didn’t havefar to go… Some of these men were pigsto begin with! She’s an archetype.There is also the woman withsnakes in her hair. Her names is Medusa.One look from her and she’d turn youto stone. She is a deep semi-consciousimage that has it’s terrifying aspects.I mention Circe and Medusa, becausethese ladies are not just symbols. These womenembody archetypes. I intend this article is just the beginningof several articles on symbol and archetype.Think of an archetype as being atranscendent human entity that exists in the midst of acircle of symbols. Symbols we only half knowthe meaning of…

Other archetypes can be said to bethe Hanged Man and the Fool, cards which existin the Major Arcana of the Tarot. These are symbols which represent transcendent aspects of human life.

We live in a world of symbols,symbols that speak to us beneath therational level of thought. Who was itwho wrote the book, “Psyche and Symbol”?That’s a good place to start. Oh, yes,it was Carl Jung.Carl Jung was a psychiatrist.He studied with Dr. Freud for years.This is a gross oversimplification,but in Freud’s experience, most psychologicalmatters could be traced back to earlychildhood fears and desires. Most thingscan be traced back to how the youngperson experienced or repressedsexual matters.

This is how the lighthearted article wasgoing to go: see below***************************************** ” Now Freud and Jung lived in a timewhen cocaine was legal. And Freud usedcocaine quite a lot in his analysis of patient’sproblems. No point in beating around the bush,ho! ho!Freud examined many psychologicalmatters and many patients…He analyzed manypatients when his understanding was fueledby cocaine.If you take enough cocaine, your mindstarts to be obsessed with certain aspectsof sexuality. I have written many, many pages of erotica,fueled by cocaine. Trust mewhen I say that cocaine eventually causesyou to become sexually obsessed.I think we’re lucky that Freud tookso much cocaine. He lived in the Victorianera, when nobody wanted to confront sex.In people’s living rooms, often the anklesof tables and chairs were covered by cloth.Scarves were wrapped around the ankles ofchairs because ankles were seen to be toosexual to be shown in polite society.S&M really blossomed in the Victorianera,also, as sex was so repressed canes and whipshad to be used in brothels – to help peopleget in touch with their feelings.

So no doubt Freud needed drugsto confront the sexual realities that are thecore of many neuroses. In those days, especiallyin Britain, people did not want to slip theirarms into a snake barrel, all the way to thearmpit, and feel what was movingat the bottom of the barrel.Even in North America, in the present day,no one really wants to put his/her arm deeplyinto the snake barrel of sexual issues. Butsex or the repression of sex fuels much of humanmotivation, whether we want to believe itor not. There is no point in avoiding this fact.Freud was absolutely correct in much of hisheroic work.

It is said, in North America, “The sexualrevolution took place in the sixties.” Well, yes,this is true to some extent. It would be more fair tosay this: “In the sixties many taboos were shakenloose” And also to say: “The sexual revolutionbegan in the sixties… It is still just beginning.”

The sixties scratched the surface of many sexual issues. And those people who jumped right in and delvedmore deeply into sex – I think it’s fair to say, these peoplewere not taking notes.*********************************************************************************************** Then I started reading one of my older notebooks, in which I was discussing Carl Jung’s view of archetypes…

Carl Jung split with Freud, because hewanted to explore the unconscious mind. He hadnoticed that certain symbols kept recurringin analysis. Not just in analysis, but all over theworld, certain symbols kept recurring in thoughtand in politics.The works of Frazer, his “The Golden Bough”helped inform Jung back in those days whenhe was assembling his notion of the Collective Unconscious.

Note: For our present information, see also Joseph Campbell’s books on mythology.(“Primitive Mythology” “Occidental Mythology”)Also, it is worth consulting the work of Otto Rank.

Carl Jung got his hands onone entire Codex from the Nag Hammadi LibraryIt is now called, “The Jung Codex.” The luckybastard! Right time, right place, right mind!Once he got his mind into the early Christiangnostic gospels, those gospels that had beenexcluded from the Bible….Jung’s psychological thought andtheory of the “collective unconscious”, his thinking grew.His thought in general quickly matured afterreading the Gnostic materials from the Nag Hammadi.Carl Jung’s Psychology thinking was enteringthe realm of the mystics, being conditioned by those in search of Gnosis. Jung was headed that way all along,but upon reading the Gospel of Thomas, growth took placein Jung’s mind.It was a criticism by other psychiatriststhat Jung was engaged in “mystical” thinking.They said that as if it was a bad thing!

When I re-read Jung’s theoryon Archetypes in my notebook, this ‘fun’article took a downward turn into thedark places of the unconscious…places I wouldjust as soon avoid. The phrases I quoted in large printat the top of this article, come directly fromCarl Jung’s theory of the Archetype andthe Collective Unconscious. Once you read Jung’s thinkingabout the archetype and you apply itto the mostly unconscious apocalypse archetype…you will see, as I did, that the ChristianArmageddon Archetype can be a very dangerousform of “thinking making it so.” The whole notion of creative visualizationcan apply here. We can make Armageddon happenwith the mostly unconscious power of ourown Archetypal Thinking. Are you with me in this? This is scarystuff and a serious matter indeed. Think of thewords Jung uses to describe archetype, which I have quoted above.

AN AUTONOMOUS HIDDEN IMAGE

AN UNCONSCIOUS COLLECTIVE IMPERATIVEWHICH SEEKS FULFILMENT IN ACTION

Now apply these words to

APOCALYPSE-ARMAGEDDON ARCHETYPE

You’ll see why this silly, fun article took adark and serious turn. Towards the end of his life Carl Junghad a series of nightmares about the end of the world. This was just before the Second World War. The same archetype seems to apply today. It’s something to think carefully about, no?

I passed through a mystical experienceat 4:30 A.M. today… and it carried me a step towards my goal of unifying the splitin the psyche between the spirit and the flesh. Make no mistake, the spiritual and theerotic both partake of the infinite atomsand energies of the same universe. Thereis nothing, not even E.S.P., not even unionwith God, nothing that is not corporeal. Atoms and energies take part in both experiences, in fact in all events that happenthrough the medium of the human brain…

So why do we revere the spiritualand denigrate the physical? (Same oldquestion on this site.)

I had a transcendent experiencethis morning. I felt Aphrodite smilewithin me. I felt Her smile with mercywithin my heart…I felt Her tenderforgiveness. What had I been doing beforethis? I had been obsessing withsexual desire focusing on psychologicalfetish. I had been focusing for hourson various aspects of the beautyof women, the beauty of womanhood,feeling passion and devotion. It was then I felt the transcendentpresence of Aphrodite within me.

The sense I got was that the energiesof the Father God, God of Abraham, God whoopens the clouds,Lord of the meeting rivers;the God of Christ and the prophets…that the chaste communion with the one who is creating uscould meld and merge into the love of Aphrodite – that the two divinitieswere one in the same, especiallythrough the prism and themirror of FORGIVENESS.

I felt this. I sensed this: that thetwo energies partake of one divinity –that He and She are of the Same. “I am he who is of the Same.”Christ said this in the Gospel of Thomas.And Christ forgave Mary Magdalene.She was His beloved companion, so muchso that some of the other disciples werejealous that He spent so much time with her. (see The Gospel of Philip)

Mystical experiences are notexperiences that can be explainedrationally. I attempted to expressthe feeling I had in the presence ofAphrodite with the following poem.I’m pretty sure the poem needs more work, more detail. But so far,this is the attempt.

This is so basic and simple, that it`s hardto understand. Nobody sees the obvious.When we get too close to a subject, we getblinded to what is going on.

Despite being a necessary act, sex and discussing sex is still kind of taboo… BUT it is the centre of our existence, centre of our bodies, too, and the tree at the centre of the garden. And it`s “bad” if we talk about it too openly.I`m amazed that after all we`ve been through, this isstill the case. Yet the PLEASURE INCENTIVE is how Natureorganizes and directs the things we do.

We feed ourselves because it feels good to eat….the Pleasure Incentive runs almost every aspect of ourlives…..

Even single-celled organisms follow pleasureas they hunt down food and devour it. it feels good to eat food and to have a full stomach. Necessary activities, like sex, would be a choreif there was not pleasure involved We are engineered internally so as to do theactivities that ensure the survival of our species. Eating and procreating – two activities that we feelpleasure doing: two activities essential to our survival.

The basic question – is this: how can wefeel guilt for something that is at the core ofour being, something essential to the species,an activity that nature gives us thePLEASURE INCENTIVE to do. Feeling guilty for having sex islike feeling guilty for eating, or feeling shamebecause you need to take anotherbreath. We might as well say,

“I APOLOGIZE FOR WHAT I AM.” And we do apologize

But this, exactly, is the SCAM:

“We`ll absolve you of your guilt, we`ll wipeyour slate and your soul clean. But you must pay us for forgiveness.” We`re supposed to pay for forgivenessto exactly the same people who convinced ussex is evil. An analogy is this: a person shoves a grenade up your ass . And now the sameperson is making you pay toget it out. Does this sound reasonable to you? It`s like the protection racket,only worse.

Since you`ll always have to have sex,you`ll always have to pay to be cleansed.The clerics have had an unending source of income – from the beginning, the dawn of man. With this sort of cash rolling in, you canbuild things. Basilicas can be built. Basilicas and bank accounts.

About Me

As years go by, there are more and more things I find not to do. Silence is essential, and loud music from time to time.Born in North Bay, Ontario, I grew up in Jamaica, West Indies, in the Parish of St. Ann. Now back up north, spend time in hut on cliff top, paddling a light canoe, when available

I'm going to do some singing on stage again, name - John Rock and the Angels put out a CD called, "It;s So Serious!" Have to re-master. Now doing CD "Wild Kingdom - A Johnny Rock Retrospective" (double disc)I'm learning how to digitize hundreds of live performance tapes.

My primary concern at the moment isincluding videos for my, "Songs That Cook" feature. And sprucing up recordings from my stage performances, so I can list musicians playing on each track, some of whom have died or gone crazy. Working with various John Rock bands can be mad fun and stressful.Hell, life is stressful. Being an animal in the forest is stressful. Singing and playing rhythms on stage with a group of talented people, that's a joy. When the music becomes one with the audience, that's an even greater joy - that's damn close to heaven on earth.I'm working with over ten diffferent manuscripts - parts of some of them are on amazon.com/kindle and ebooks. These books tend to be serials with chapters being added as I write them.I write erotic and fetish literature as Walker Ballantine (none published so far but coming soon)...Wait! "Stories From The Female Orgasm Clinic" is a Tumblr blog.I write spiritual and realization (foundation experience) tracts - some are published on amazon.comunder the title, "Most Ancient Gospel Found Anew, The Second Coming of Christ; I think some people think I'm a freak because I have had experiences that convinced me that the One Who Is Creating Us is conscious.I write "WAIT-A-BIT! Tales of Isolation and Panic. Moonshine Sketches of a Pickled Town" These are stories about the north that I find funny.There's nothing funnier than seeing a mankicking something in the throes of a tantrum... or the moment he realizes he's screwed because he's landed in the middle of the wilderness -nowhere -and he can't get out and he's hearing tales of animal attacks. And I write plenty more, for example, myBlogger blogs. One of my favourites is "The Whip and the Cross" which speaks of the split between the spirit and the flesh in the human psyche.O.K. Now I'm starting to bore myselfand I'm probably boring you also. So for now,enough is enough!